Chapter 99 Chapter 99

Chapter 99 Chapter 99
LENORE
“There’s an undying spell on her.”
“What?” Surprise was evident in Killian’s uncle’s voice while confusion flooded me in a hot rush, and the only thing that popped into my mind was huh? before the witch cupped my cheek again. That warm sensation reappeared beneath and over my skin, humming as it moved, while I tried to make sense of what she just said.
Undying spell? What does—
“What in…” she trailed off, her bewildered expression transforming into one of awe, and unease began to crawl through me the same way her magic had. Her hand left my face and she turned to Killian’s uncle once more. “It’s a rather powerful one too.”
My hands tightened into fists in my lap, my confusion intensifying. Didn’t undying kind of mean immortality? How was there an undying spell on me? Even more importantly, why was there one on me, and who had placed it? When was it placed on me? How long had it been on me? People didn’t just get spells on them out of nowhere… Or did they? And what did an undying spell mean specifically—did it somehow make me immortal… That didn’t make any sense.
A faint throbbing started in my head before I blinked rapidly at the witch, who was now staring at me again, and—I might be reading her wrongly—there was a hint of suspicion in her expression. I glanced at Killian’s uncle, hoping for some sort of explanation regarding the spell, only to find he was also staring at me.
“Um…” Discomfort settled heavily in my chest, and my gaze bounced between them as their probing attention remained fixed on me. They were clearly waiting for me to explain, but I had absolutely nothing to offer them. Besides—I fixed my gaze on Killian’s uncle—you said to let you do the talking!
That thought was either loud enough for him to hear or written all over my face, because the next moment, he spoke. “I—”
“Come here,” the witch said gently, though the invitation seemed rather pointless because she instantly leaned forward to cup my cheeks again—with both hands this time.
The sensation that slammed into me wasn’t the warm one from moments ago. No, this one was hot—popping and crackling like oil as it raced through my veins, and I jolted, trying to pull my head back but her grip grew firmer. The sensation didn’t hurt and it didn’t feel like she was trying to hurt me, but it didn’t feel like she was casting a protection spell either.
It felt like she was looking for something… hunting, to be more specific.
“What are you doing?” Killian’s uncle asked, an edge in his voice, while I tried and failed to pull my head back again. The witch’s eyes were intently fixed on me and it didn’t seem like she heard Killian’s uncle. It didn’t even seem like she was seeing me.
Then something stirred in my chest, and my confusion about the undying spell and what the witch was doing stuttered as it groaned and widened. The feeling was familiar, like a word on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t exactly concentrate to figure out why it felt familiar when the witch’s magic and that peppermint scent were flooding my senses.
…Is the scent her ma—
Contact.
Growing up as the only human in my father’s pack, I’d gotten into a couple of accidents over the years, and by accidents, I meant getting in the way of werewolves when they were running around with their enhanced speed. Werewolves moved fast, not blur-fast like vampires did, but it was still way faster than a human could. The enhanced speed also affected their reflexes, so the ones whose way I got in could have easily avoided me, but what was the point in that when they could just knock me to the ground instead?
However, instead of that widening feeling in me falling on its ass, it lashed out, digging into the witch’s magic in a manner that was somehow both offensive and defensive, and slashing.
A gasp tore from my throat as the witch yelped and fell to the side, as though her body was too heavy for her to control. Killian’s uncle, who I just realized was standing next to us, caught her before she could fall off the coffee table.
My entire body was wildly thrumming with anxiety now and half of me wanted to get out of this room and go to Killian while the other half wanted to know what the hell was going on. Then it hit me why the sensation had felt familiar—it was the same thing that had moved through me when the King mind-controlled me in the audience room.
A confused laugh escaped the witch, drawing me back to the present, and I blinked at her as she pressed her hand to the side of her head. “Sorry, um…” she started, shaking her head, before she stared up at Killian’s uncle whose eyes were narrowed at her. Then she flexed her fingers, shaking them as though they’d gone stiff, while Killian’s uncle glanced at me, his eyes scanning my face. “I’m a bit hungover.”
She shook her head again before turning to me once more, and it felt like her gaze physically latched onto me, making the hairs on the back of my neck rise. The cheery woman who had walked into the room moments ago was gone, replaced by a vigilant, calculating woman.
…I should leave.
“Who were your parents?” The question seized the space between us and the throbbing in my head was no longer faint now.
“Why?”
“Can’t a woman be curious?” she replied Killian’s uncle without missing a beat or glancing at him, and when seconds passed without him saying anything else, I swallowed.
“My father’s—was…” I paused for a moment to see if she caught the slip—Killian’s uncle had told her I was an orphan after all—but if she did, nothing in her expression indicated it. “A werewolf.”
“Hmm-hm.” She stopped leaning against Killian’s uncle and settled fully on the coffee table once more, leaning into my space a bit. “And your mother?”
“She was human.”
“...Right… How did they—” She shook her head like she was dismissing the question before she took my hands in hers again, her lips curving into a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and I fought the urge to pull away. “What’s your name, sweetie?”